


Who Wants to Live Forever

by suchanadorer



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-11
Updated: 2011-11-11
Packaged: 2017-10-25 22:42:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/275637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suchanadorer/pseuds/suchanadorer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I made a <a href="http://suchanadorer.tumblr.com/post/11198535537/this-is-where-heroes-and-cowards-part-ways">Sherlock fanmix</a> and mentioned that this song needed fic.  Then I went ahead and wrote it.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Who Wants to Live Forever

**Author's Note:**

> I made a [Sherlock fanmix](http://suchanadorer.tumblr.com/post/11198535537/this-is-where-heroes-and-cowards-part-ways) and mentioned that this song needed fic. Then I went ahead and wrote it.

_There’s no time for us  
There’s no place for us  
What is this thing that builds our dreams  
Yet slips away from us_

“We’re all going to die anyway.” Sherlock’s gaze is fixed on the ceiling. John sighs, propping himself up on an elbow beside him in bed.

“Sherlock, do you have to-? Now? Really?” John’s face is angles and planes in the darkness of the bedroom, the light from the window reaching Sherlock but not him. Sherlock’s paleness is somehow accentuated in the light from the street lamp, but it throws shadows over John’s eyes and makes the lines around his mouth look even deeper.

”Listen to me, John. You’re keenly aware of human mortality, more so than an average man.” John draws a sharp breath and his frown deepens, but he nods for Sherlock to continue. “I’ve had my own experiences with death and I make no assumptions regarding my longevity, given the line of work I’ve chosen. I’m merely trying to say that, when I meet my end, I will be grateful for… for this. For us.”

 _This world has only one sweet moment  
Set aside for us_

“Sherlock.” The bedding rustles as John shifts beside him, moving onto his stomach.

“Yes John.” Sherlock’s hands are folded on his chest and his head barely moves when he glances towards the man beside him.

“We’re not going to die tonight, are we?” There is a softness in John’s voice as he pushes himself up from the bed and moves on top of Sherlock, slotting one thigh between Sherlock’s own. He places one hand on the bed by Sherlock’s shoulder before dropping down to rest on his elbow, their chests pressed together. His other hand fastens in dark curls, and Sherlock closes his eyes and pushes his head into John’s touch.

“No.” Sherlock whispers the word, eyes still closed as he twists his head to plant a kiss on the palm of John’s hand.

”Then let’s live instead.”

John’s hand trails down Sherlock’s arched neck, his still-tanned skin a stark contrast to the paleness of Sherlock, almost blue in the dim light of the bedroom. John’s hand is warm, the skin on his fingertips is dry and callused but Sherlock pushes up into the gentle, exploring touch. John follows his fingers with his mouth and Sherlock’s voice hitches in his throat, almost a sob as John’s breath, hot and damp, finally meets the coolness of his skin, his thumb dragging over Sherlock’s throat. He mouths lazy kisses along the side of Sherlock’s neck, pressing his nose to the pulsing artery there. Sherlock’s hands slide up John’s arms, his fingers digging into the muscles of his shoulders as John’s mouth reaches his collarbone and he brushes his teeth lightly over the skin there.

Sherlock’s hips are already gently rolling under John, under the blanket that covers them both from the waist down. John slips a hand under the covers, running it along Sherlock’s thigh before hooking his fingers under the back of Sherlock’s leg, giving himself a little more leverage to press his own hips down, turning the almost unconscious rocking into insistent grinding against each other. He lifts his hips and Sherlock moans a complaint until he feels John’s hand on him, on both of them, moving their cocks together before he lowers himself again, their erections now rubbing against each other in the hot, sweat-slicked space between their stomachs. His hand returns to the back of Sherlock’s thigh, stroking gently from the back of his knee up to the curve of his arse and back.

“Please, John. Please.” Sherlock’s voice is high and thin, his head thrashing back and forth against the pillow. John pulls him up, a hand at the back of his neck. He pauses less than an inch from Sherlock’s lips, his head tilted in preparation for the kiss, but for a long moment they just look at each other. Sherlock’s eyes are half-wild and shining while John’s gaze is dark, lust-filled but controlled. Sherlock’s chest heaves under John, their hips rolling slowly; the only noise in the room is their breathing and the rustle of the sheets. Then Sherlock closes the gap, his hands moving quickly, desperately over John’s body as they kiss. Sherlock’s hands slow as John’s tongue moves with the same deliberate tempo as his hips, tracing patterns over Sherlock’s lips and tongue.

Sherlock’s head falls back as he comes, pulling John down with him, his body tightening and falling against the bed in waves. John isn’t far behind; a few hard thrusts and he moans into the silence of the room, growling Sherlock’s name as he presses his forehead to his pale, panting chest.

 _Forever is our today  
Who waits forever anyway?_


End file.
